Human condition

What a week it's been as we recover from my father-in-law's funeral and a long haul of supporting my mother-in-law in her 57 years of caregiving to her husband in their marriage. Our family would undoubtedly agree that she is a saint given her unwavering dedication to her husband in sickness and in health, mostly in sickness the last three years. 

Obituaries always share the best of someone, and they can differ immensely from the complicated components that others experience of a person. Three children in a family can have three completely different relationships with the same father. A grandchild can sense the deep tension between Grandpa and each of his kids.

Marrying into a family can be met either with a warm welcome or a lukewarm undertone, depending on expectations. Still, we can choose to make the best of it and struggle to understand that all parents, even when they are not our own, are human too. Through the years, my father-in-law and I engaged in our own banter, and I distinctly remember him firmly stating that he disliked Hillary Clinton as a presidential candidate because she was 'too strong' (code for 'she's a woman') as we sat in the family waiting room for A. to come through his open heart surgery. 

As we waited for my father-in-law to die, I could not help but reflect on my Dad's cancer journey and his death. Grateful that I did not have sibling dynamics to work through and analyze. What a challenge it is to sit with all the lovely images everyone else has of my father-in-law and reconcile the images I have of him as a hard, most demanding man, especially of his wife and in the years his health declined, along with the experiences that his oldest son, my husband, has shared with me. 

Such is the human condition, and we meet it with compassion and grace. 

prayer
is the heartache's
grieving everything
you would have liked to say
(to those who are dead)
and prayer
is the heavy heartedness's
mourning everything
you would like to say
(to those who live)

Grateful that my father-in-law and mother-in-law raised a son of deepest integrity and discipline. In memory of my father-in-law, Rosendo Torres, b. 3.1.1939 - d. 04.30.2025

Inner work

Spring brings transition. As the lavender hyacinths begin to pop up through the dirt covered in an unending stockpile of dried leaves, I feel that I am coming home to myself too as I prep for two new part-time job opportunities outside of the home that start this week. One as a seasonal reader of admissions applications for MIT and the other as outreach director managing volunteers and short/long term community projects for a local nonprofit, both super flexible as I make my reentry.

Before the flowers push through, so much germination happens: Abosorbing the world around me as I have contributed to different communities, almost ten years since our move to NoVA. Roots have taken anchor in those communities that have fed my soul. Through various projects, offshoots have invited others to join inspiring connections that encourage our circles to bloom into something more worthwhile and colorful.

This inner work we do requires mindful intention. It has been my looming battle to justify to myself - working at home as a parent, not to be confused with working from home and contributing to the household income with a tangible salary. It is a conscious choice that our family made to raise our daughter, which means living within our means, no big suburban home, no fancy cars, no extravagant vacations. All worth it as my tween recently brought up in conversation that she suddenly realized that not everyone has a work-at-home parent. We discussed the necessity of working parents outside the home (like so many of her friends' parents, Lola and Lolo, Grandma and Grandpa), choice and sacrifice to have a work-at-home parent, along with the impact of the pandemic and parenting as essential labor, how important and sometimes undervalued, parenting can be misunderstood. How blessed that we have been able to make our choice work for us. 

Now as our almost teen continues to come into her own, the timely opportunities for me to reemerge into the world of work outside the home have presented themselves. The anticipation of setting firm boundaries and maintaining availability for family needs comes with some nervous excitement, (not to mention tech week and N.'s upcoming ballet performance, La Fille Mal Gardeé) .

May we embrace Spring's invitation to resurface, unfurl and return home to ourselves.

Shift in time

where the vixen Maple pauses,
crosses my path and stares,
she is my spirit guide
who intuits --
embrace change with grace, 
flow with life's
ever shifting currents
even in all the
unconstitutional trickery.
the snow flakes begin their waltz
and the trees lure
my soulful worries to quieten.

Lallygag

i am not these thoughts that constantly worry, 
want to problem solve,
too concerned about
what the future holds
for my only daughter
who thrives
in the company of her tween tribes.
young, burgeoning ladies
like vibrant winter candycane amaryllis buds
who support each other, 
growing in their own individual ways,
figuring out how to
fulfill their most untamed dreams.
--
these thoughts pass through my mind. 
these thoughts are not me.
where there is so much hurt and frustration
and i am unable to help, i feel powerless. 

all i can do is listen.
i am not the one fearful
of acknowledging the (im)perfections
about family who gather for the holidays,
oblivious to each other's truths.
loving family is more. 

i stand on the sidelines unable to speak up.
shhh. know your place. 
the urge to offer saving grace embraces me.
these thoughts are not me.
i am that voice whose heart
is out there in the open.
feel that snowy wind on a brisk traipse
that suddenly brings a depth of comfort?
this, my heart, is what I am.